


The Golden Eye of Justice

by HolmesArtemis8



Category: Ripper Street
Genre: Choking, Dark, F/M, Light BDSM, Power Dynamics, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesArtemis8/pseuds/HolmesArtemis8
Summary: Following your (guilty) husband's disappearance, you come face to face with Inspector Jedediah Shine's somewhat... questionable interrogation tactics.
Relationships: Jedediah Shine/Original Character(s), Jedediah Shine/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	The Golden Eye of Justice

Following the transfer of your husband’s office to Limehouse only a year after your marriage, you both began to drift apart. You often found that George was spending his money on drinks for him and his new friends that he made at work. At least, that’s what he told you.

He went out a lot, and a new development was that he would be gone until the next morning or afternoon. At first, you worried yourself nearly to death that something might have happened to him. However, as the late-night outings became more frequent, you did not bother to worry. He never told you he loved you, and when he came home it seemed a chore for him to speak to you let alone even look at you. He might have been having an affair, but at this point, you did not care.

Your maid, Jenny, was your only confidante in this matter. She spoke words of comfort to you, even if you did not wish to hear them. You had hardened your heart towards George, but you remained loyal to him. Jenny was the one who encouraged you to find another man of your own in a sort of secret revenge.

“I am not entirely convinced he is in bed with another woman, Jenny,” you told her one afternoon. “He does not smile anymore, and certainly I would imagine a woman would perhaps give him at least a small amount of happiness.”

“I can’t say, ma’am,” Jenny replied. “Whatever he does at night, however, he knows you would not approve.”

You scoffed. “He does not need nor does he ask for my approval. It is worthless, especially to him.” Your cynicism no longer stung at your heart: you felt next to nothing.

One evening, around six, you returned to your home from a bit of light shopping. George nearly bowled you over as you stepped over the threshold.

“Where the _hell_ have you been?” he snapped as he slammed the door behind you. His eyes were wild with fear and anger.

You looked at him, puzzled. “I ran out of blue thread, so I went to the haberdashery to fetch some. I did not expect you home so early—“

“Never mind that. I need you and Jenny to go into my study and burn my folios. Tonight.” George quickly put on his coat and went around the corner to fetch a valise. He handed you an envelope filled with only a hundred pounds. “Use this sparingly. I am going to Stepney for a week. Do not ask why.” He paused as if he expected you to ask. You said nothing. “Do not speak to anyone who comes to the door.”

You watched as he donned his hat and left the house without saying another word. Whatever happened, it had been violent. You saw a few small droplets of blood on his sleeve before he put on his coat. You were furious with him, even though you did not know what he did.

“Jenny!” you called out. The maid quickly entered from the kitchen. “Did you speak to Mr. Knightley when he came back?”

Jenny looked down. “Yes, ma’am. He was very short with me, ma’am. I didn’t quite understand what he wanted me to do.”

You clenched your teeth but softened your expression when you turned to the young woman. “Do not concern yourself with his behavior, this evening. Leave everything to me. I should like some tea while I’m in the study, however.”

Jenny bobbed her head and left to prepare your tea. You huffed and made your way into George’s study. When you moved to this new house, you were forbidden to enter the study. It was just another way for him to push you away.

You sat at your husband’s desk and pulled at the drawers. They were locked. You rolled your eyes. Of course, he locked his desk drawers. Whatever he wanted you to burn was sensitive information.

You spent some time trying to jiggle open the drawers. When that did not prove fruitful, you began to search his document-covered desk for a spare key (no doubt he took the original with him). You could not help but glance at some of the documents on the desk. None of them had any official letterhead on the top: his place of work had special letterheads. These documents were strictly off-book. If you had to guess, George was most likely involved in black market dealings.

After an hour or two, a timid but frantic knock sounded on the study door. “Yes?” you called.

Jenny opened the door just enough for her head to pop through. “Ma’am, there are police inspectors at the door!”

You raised an eyebrow. George had told you not to speak to anyone, but you reasoned that to maintain his innocence, you would have to let the police in. You calmly gathered the papers on the desk, neatly straightened them, and placed them on the roaring fire in the fireplace. You waited a few seconds for the paper to catch and lose its square shape.

“Invite them in,” you said decisively. Your heart pounded. Why had George gotten you involved in this?

Jenny nodded and left to greet the inspectors. You watched as the documents you threw into the fire scorched and curled. You willed the fire to consume the papers faster.

You heard voices in the foyer: Jenny’s small voice against two men’s. You turned and breathed deeply to calm yourself. You walked out of the study.

“Mrs. Knightley,” said the taller and more intimidating of the two inspectors. He had bright, piercing green eyes that caught you off guard. A scar ran over one of them, but his waxed mustache distracted the eye away from the imperfection. His plaid checked suit practically screamed for attention. He smiled shallowly. “I am Inspector Jedediah Shine. This is Sergeant William Mayhew. We are from the K-Division police.”

“Oh, dear,” you said in a light voice. “I do hope nothing is the matter.”

“We are here for Mr. George Knightley. Is he at home?” Sergeant Mayhew asked. His pinched face twisted at your husband’s name.

“I’m afraid not. You see, he is out for most of the day, and I rarely set eyes on him again before eleven o’clock,” you replied. “He’s not in any danger, I hope?” You did your best to fake a concerned expression.

Inspector Shine appraised you silently before speaking. “No, Mrs. Knightley. Not in any current danger.”

You smiled. “That is a relief to hear, sir. May I ask, then, what brings you here?”

Sergeant Mayhew gestured to the sitting room. “May we…?”

“Please,” you encouraged as you showed them into the room. “Would you like some tea, Inspectors?” you asked.

“No, Mrs. Knightley, but thank you for your offer,” Inspector Shine said as he sat on the chaise.

You turned to Jenny. “If you would wait in the kitchen, Jenny. I’ll come and fetch you when this is all over.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jenny quickly replied and disappeared down the hallway.

You followed the two men into the room and sat in George’s wingback chair. You chuckled to yourself. George would have been livid to see you sit in his chair.

“How may I help you, Inspectors?” you finally asked.

Sergeant Mayhew sat on the edge of the chaise, while Inspector Shine leaned back into the cushions. He seemed a bit too relaxed.

“Mrs. Knightley, what is your husband’s current occupation?” Sergeant Mayhew asked.

“He works at Morton and Youngfellow's a few streets away from here. He was recently transferred to the Limehouse office,” you responded.

“Was Mr. Knightley friendly acquaintances with David Morton?” Sergeant Mayhew questioned.

You looked to the side in thought. “If I am being honest, Sergeant Mayhew, I was unaware until now of Mr. Morton’s Christian name being David.”

Inspector Shine’s mustache quirked in bitter amusement. “Mrs. Knightley, we only ask this because David Morton was found dead this afternoon, and your husband was seen leaving Morton and Youngfellows shortly thereafter,” he said.

So George had killed a man. For what, you could not say.

Inspector Shine gauged your reaction, which was apparently not surprised enough. “Mrs. Knightley, you do understand that your husband is a suspect in a murder case?”

“It just seems so very unlike George,” you replied.

Sergeant Mayhew sat up even more. “What reasoning is behind that?”

You shook your head. “George is not a violent man. I have never seen him raise a hand at any living creature.” This was not true: George had slapped a street urchin for trying to pick his pocket.

Inspector Shine leaned forward. “Mrs. Knightley, where is your husband?”

You sighed. “It’s hard to say. He may be at a public house having drinks with his colleagues,” you answered.

“He may be… however, I believe that it is not so very hard for you to say, my dear Mrs. Knightley,” Inspector Shine said with a lowered voice.

You swallowed at his intensity, but you did not shy away from it. “And why is that, Inspector?”

“Because,” he added. His eyes locked with yours and your breath hitched. “You have told me already that you were aware of your husband’s wrongdoings.”

Sergeant Mayhew looked at the inspector, clearly very confused. Neither you nor Inspector Shine paid him any mind.

Your heart beat faster as Inspector Shine saw deeper and deeper into your soul. You came to the conclusion that he was quite handsome. He pinned you with his gaze, and you reveled in it.

“Inspector, I have said no such thing—“ you began.

“Perhaps not with your lips, dear Mrs. Knightley,” he observed. “But with your eyes.”

You blinked and tried to flatten your expression. “And what about my eyes told you that I thought my husband was a murderer?”

“Your eyes flutter when you speak falsehoods, but you cannot hide the truth from Jedediah Shine,” he hissed.

Your ears suddenly became very hot. Your lips parted to speak, but Inspector Shine held up a hand.

“And you did not believe he was a murderer. You merely knew that perhaps Mr. Knightley was dancing with devils, but none so foul as common killers,” Inspector Shine added.

You stared down Inspector Shine, trying to decipher what expression he had; was he actually giddy at his inductions? Or was he furious at the prospect of a crime? Whatever the expression, he did not let up on his gaze as he tried to force you to break. You were too hardened to crack so easily, however.

“I apologize, gentlemen, but I am afraid I do not know the whereabouts of my husband,” you said once more.

Inspector Shine smiled darkly, but you did not react. He stood, and you and Sergeant Mayhew followed suit. “Where is your husband’s hat, Mrs. Knightley?” Inspector Shine asked as he glanced at the hat rack in the foyer.

You blinked in confusion. “I do not know, sir. Perhaps with Mr. Knightley.”

Inspector Shine began to take off his plaid coat. “You see, Mrs. Knightley,” he started. He carefully laid the coat on the chaise behind him. “When the witnesses saw your husband leave Morton and Youngfellows, he did not wear a hat.”

“Perhaps he forgot it at the office, if the man seen leaving was him,” you countered.

Inspector Shine nodded. “Oh, it was him, my dear.” He uncuffed his sleeves and began to roll them up so his muscular forearms were bare. You swallowed thickly. You saw his muscles ripple beneath his upper sleeves.

“He did not leave the hat at the office, and I know this because when we investigated the crime scene, there was no hat left there,” Inspector Shine said. He rubbed his chin and placed his other hand in his pocket. “You see, I have a theory that Mr. Knightley returned home to retrieve his hat and then left.”

You straightened your back. “Ah, well you see, I went out today. I needed some blue thread. You may ask Jenny. She will confirm that I was gone for most of today.”

Inspector Shine nodded. “I do not doubt that she will.” He began to step closer to you. “However, Mrs. Knightley,” he said slowly. “I would much rather hear from you where your husband has gone.”

You stepped back until you lightly pressed against the wall. Your pulse thudded in your ear as you realized just how imposing this man was. He was the greatest definition of a man you had ever seen. Your eyes wandered down to his broad chest, which was covered by his dress shirt and striped waist jacket. You glanced around the inspector to look at the sergeant and gauge his reaction to what was unfolding.

“No, no, no, no, no, dear, look up here,” Inspector Shine commanded as he took your chin in his thumb and forefinger and forced you to look up at his face. He slightly cocked his head. “Dear Mrs. Knightley,” he whispered. He let his hand fall to your shoulder, where he then flattened his palm against your collarbone. His thumb began to stroke the space at the base of your throat, and you swallowed against his touch. You realized you were trembling, and perhaps he thought it was out of fear.

“Where has George run off to?” he asked.

You did not answer right away. You could feel Inspector Shine’s fingertips twitch through the fabric of your dress. What was he thinking? What was he going to do? Was it worth protecting George?

What would happen if you did?

“I don’t know,” you said simply.

In a split second, Inspector Shine’s hand shot up to your neck and squeezed on either side, causing you to go dizzy. Instead of a scream of terror, the sound that you made was utterly obscene. As soon as the man’s fingers gripped around your throat, a sensual moan escaped your lips as if it had been waiting at the bottom of your throat and the inspector had squeezed it out of you.

This caught him off-guard, as surprise, lust, and anger flashed across his face in a matter of seconds. His eyes glanced down to your open mouth, and he shifted and sniffed.

“Mayhew!” he bellowed. “Go search the study. I believe you’ll find that it was where Mrs. Knightley came from to greet us.”

“Yes, inspector,” Sergeant Mayhew sputtered, rather embarrassed.

Your chest rose and fell as you gasped for air for more reasons than one. You kept Inspector Shine’s eye contact until you both heard the door to the study open and close again.

Inspector Shine moved his hand up so that he had a firm grip on your jaw. His other hand braced against the wall, physically pinning you in place. “You don’t know, do you?”

You raised your head and looked down your nose at Inspector Shine. “No, I haven’t any idea where George is.”

His face was nearly touching yours, and you could feel his breath as he hissed, “Ol’ Jedediah Shine has ways of making pretty little things like you speak.”

The corners of your lips danced upwards and you gazed through your lashes. “He does?”

“Yes, he does,” he growled. He pressed his body flush against you, and even through your corset, you could feel him hardening against. He brought his free hand down and around to your backside. “I’d like to see if I can get you to make that lovely little noise again.”

You smirked as if to dare him. He took the dare, as he pushed you flat against the wall with both his hand around your neck and his body with his length pressing against you. This time, a higher, more whimpering and desperate moan came up out of your body. You felt Inspector Shine twitch against you.

The inspector groaned in arousal. “You are a dirty little thing, my dear Mrs. Knightley,” he murmured as he began to lift your skirts. He slid his hand beneath your undergarments and soon found your slick folds.

Your breathing quickened as a heat pooled in your belly with anticipation. Inspector Shine grinned devilishly. “Mrs. Knightley,” he said.

“Jedediah,” you let his first name roll off of your tongue.

His pupils blew out and something in his eyes snapped as you said his name. He pushed his index and middle finger into you and you gasped. He curled his fingers and began to stroke you as your head fell back in pleasure.

“There we go, my dear,” he said. He let his other hand fall away from your throat and dragged his fingers down your side. Your corset blocked most of his touch, but you were more focused on what he was doing to you with his other hand.

With each of his ministrations, you felt yourself fall closer and closer to your orgasm. The pressure began to build in your lower stomach, and you shut your eyes. George had never been able to make you feel this good.

Inspector Shine suddenly took his hand away, and you grunted in frustration. Your eyes bolted open, and he stared at you smugly.

“Now, Mrs. Knightley, have you learned not to lie to Jedediah Shine?” Without waiting for an answer, he asked, “Where is George?”

You decided to give him a partial truth in hopes that that would not be enough. “He’s still in London. I don’t know where in London, however,” you panted.

“I don’t believe you, Mrs. Knightley,” Inspector Shine tutted. He stepped away and began to unbutton his waistcoat. “You see, I think he told you exactly where he was going. And you are being a stubborn little wench.” He let his waistcoat fall to the floor and he pushed off his suspenders.

“Perhaps I am,” you pushed him on.

Inspector Shine unbuttoned his trousers and pulled his impressive length out. You gazed at his member: he was much, _much_ bigger than George.

Inspector Shine stepped closer again. “Are you so desperate for my cock in your cunny that you would defend your pathetic slip of a husband?”

In a bold move, you wrapped your hand around Inspector Shine’s cock, eliciting a deep moan from his chest. “Perhaps I would be more inclined to reveal his location if you were to fuck me, Inspector Shine,” you whispered into his ear.

He pressed his rough cheek against yours. “With pleasure,” he growled. Inspector Shine expertly lifted your skirt and pulled down your undergarment to expose you. He lined himself up with your opening and pushed into you. You moaned as he filled you up completely.

“Christ, your cunny is tight,” he hissed between his teeth. “You haven’t been fucked by a real man in some time, have you?”

You shook your head, unable to form words as he filled you to his hilt. At that, he began to roll his hips as his cock pumped in and out of you. He reached down and picked up your legs and had you wrap them around his waist in a show of strength. You knew was trying to prove that he was more of a man than George, but this was something that you already knew.

“Say my name, girlie,” he said. He snapped his hips against yours with more force.

“Jedediah,” you moaned as he repeatedly hit your most sensitive spot.

“Again,” he commanded.

“Jedediah!” you repeated with more vigor.

He chuckled into your ear. He bent his head to leave a bite on your neck. You inhaled sharply at the pain and pleasure of the sensation. “Come on, girlie, I know you can say it louder!”

“ _Jedediah_!” you practically screamed.

“That’s it!” he roared. “Now, who do you belong to?”

You forced yourself to look into his eyes as you whispered, “I belong to Inspector Jedediah Shine.”

He thrust into you once more and spilled his seed into you with a low and rumbling groan. You followed in the most intense orgasm you had ever had. You shut your eyes and moaned his name like a prayer over and over as waves of pleasure crashed down around you.

Exhausted, you stood straight and leaned against the wall as your legs shook in the aftermath. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath.

Inspector Shine tucked himself back into his trousers and began to redress himself. “Now, then, my dear Mrs. Knightley,” he said as if nothing had happened. “Where in London is your husband?”

You swallowed and replied immediately, “He told me he was going to Stepney.” Inspector Shine glanced at you as he began to button up his waistcoat. He raised an eyebrow. “He has a cousin there. Pitsea Place.”

Inspector Shine smiled contentedly. “Well, my dear, you have proven very useful after all. I thank you.” He looked you in the eyes. “I will have further questioning for you, Mrs. Knightley. Especially if we discover Mr. Knightley did kill David Morton.”

“Well, then,” you said, having finally caught your breath. “Let us hope that justice will be swiftly served.”

Inspector Shine smiled darkly and shouldered on his coat. “Yes, madam. Let us hope.” He began to make his way to the foyer.

“I shall see myself and Sergeant Mayhew out, Mrs. Knightley,” Inspector Shine called over his shoulder.

You heard the inspector call for Sergeant Mayhew from the study. The front door then closed, and silence filled the house.

You let yourself slide to the ground. Your head fell back and your eyes closed; you could feel the remnants of Jedediah Shine leaking slowly out of you.

A sudden door slam jerked you back into reality and you heard quick, light footsteps from the hallway.

“Mrs. Knightley!” Jenny cried out when she saw you. She rushed over to you. “Ma’am did he—?”

You shook your head. “No, no, dear Jenny. He did not hurt me.”

Jenny sighed in relief. “What do we do now?”

“Like I told Inspector Shine,” you said. “We must hope that justice will be swiftly served.”

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own "Ripper Street" or any characters therein. All rights belong to the BBC and to Richard Warlow.
> 
> I am such trash for this man. I hate him but I love him. Anyway, leave a kudos or a comment if you wish. MAYBE I'll add another chapter (because I have a little bit of a story in mind?), but for now, it's a one-shot.


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